


Busy like a Bumblebee

by ElitaOneSpark



Series: Sparkmates and sparklings [2]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Consensual, F/M, Gen, Multi, Not a heat fic, Scouts lead the way, Transformer Sparklings, Transformers Spark Bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElitaOneSpark/pseuds/ElitaOneSpark
Summary: Bumblebee is left to guard the Ark and its inhabitants while recovering post battle. Only the femmes have ideas of their own to keep him busy. G1 based with other mixes. Other combo pairs to follow.
Relationships: Arcee/Bumblebee, Bumblebee/Firestar, Bumblebee/Flareup, Bumblebee/Roulette, Chromia/Ironhide, Elita One/Optimus Prime, Moonracer/Ratchet
Series: Sparkmates and sparklings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816030
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. The honey Bee in the Hive

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are love or what you would like to see next possibly. Have multiple chapters already plotted out. Remember to click "subscribe" for updates. This is an adult fic with references to mating, interfacing and spark merging. Rated M for a reason. There is a plot with surprises and fun, not just porn. I am newer to Archive and still learning the system. I have no beta reader, any mistakes are mine.

**Mount St. Hillary, dormant volcano outside Portland, OR**

**The (crashed and half buried ) Autobot ship, _The Ark_**

"Bumblebee will remain to guard and protect while we are away," Optimus Prime intoned. His red and blue armor shone in the sunlight, displaying the vitality and intensity of a war mech. The Autobots waited behind him in perfect military order, all systems charged and ready for the command to roll out. The femmes stood further inside the Ark entrance corridor, suitably unimpressed at the mechs display. Arcee and Moonracer leaned against the metal wall plating while the other three femmes confronted their leader.

"We can guard ourselves," Firestar reminded. Her deep red armor reflected the light of the setting sun spectacularly. And sparkled across her shoulder grenade launcher.

"Not the first millennia we fought ‘Cons," Chromia growled, the faintest trace of anger showing across the graceful alignment of her lighter blue face plates. Her rifle lay across her arm, her dark blue armored fingers curled around the handle but not the trigger. Her reminder they were capable and armed warriors.

"We do not need protecting Prime, save your efforts for our traditions," Elita One declared. The pink and white femme was smaller and lighter mass than the mech she faced but as commanding in her presence. Her spark flared, not with passion but irritation. On Cybertron her team had fought alongside the Wreckers and even confronted Shockwave. Now she felt they were being treated as lesser for the wrong reasons even though newly arrived at earth.

"Forgive me Commander. Protection was a poor choice of a word," he rumbled behind his silver battle mask, pushing feelings of _concern,_ and _understanding_ to his beloved spark mate. "The Decepticons are striking all over the world and you were specifically targeted upon arrival. Windblade and Greenlight are under full medical restriction as is Bumblebee. Your own injuries constrict your combat readiness.”

“A lack of targeting sensors does not mean I am helpless.”

“If targeting was only Bumblebee’s problem. His transform sequencer was heavily damaged, and I need time to rebuild his main processor cases after the welds on his temporary armor settle,” Ratchet reminded. The red and white armored medic smiled at Moonracer, getting only a nod of acknowledgment from his mate in return. “Do not let him talk you into releasing him off medical leave because he is walking. He cannot transform, use weapons or roll.”

“The Decepticons would love such a target. We will ensure they do not get that chance, next encounter," Prime stated.

"Slagging 'Cons need a reminder only we can give ‘em," Ironhide ground out. The red armored warrior had been part of Bumblebee's rescue party and still burned with hate over Starscream's cowardly attack. The arriving femmes were barely unfolding from their comet forms when the Seeker attacked. Bumblebee defending them even as he took grievous hits instead of retreating made the ancient mech proud. "Ambushing defenseless targets then running ‘fore we got there ain't fighting."

"Cowardice and destruction are mottos of the Decepticons," Prime reminded in his regal baritone. "We will remain in contact with the military teams but stay alert. We cannot afford to lose even one of us. Autobots transform and roll out!" The sound of their alt mode transforms was nearly overwhelming in the small entrance space, quickly drowned out beneath the roaring of their engines echoing off the metal walls, ceiling and floor.

They moved rapidly, stepping further back down the hallway as the mechs rolled out, kicking up dust and dirt.

"With a hearty hi ho silver and they are away," Arcee teased, closing her external vents while moving away from the rolling dust cloud.

"Prime really should pave this outer area. In the winter it is mud and summer it is dust from the security videos I reviewed. For once I completely agree with Red Alert and his security upgrades. Last thing we need is organic junk in our wheel wells or undercarriages," Elita One complained, waving to keep the dust off her pink armor.

"I don't mind," Firestar chirped. "Gives me an excuse to be in the wash racks."

"You and any mech you can trap there to help scrub?" Chromia teased her friend.

"When you and Ironhide aren't fragging each other in there already you mean," Firestar teased right back, chuckling as the older dark blue femme vented deeply as the rest headed for the recreation room to review their defenses among energon refuels.

“Hard to do here, there are separate facilities per Prime’s orders. Wonder how long they will share other spaces with us,” Moonracer giggled, waving as she turned down the hallway heading away from them for the command deck and the first monitoring duty post.

"Speaking of sharing, you know what I'm curious about?" Arcee began. The pink and white femme pretended to look thoughtful, her hand under her chin plates and one optic closed in her best pose of their scientific friend Preceptor.

"How the Decepticons tracked the comet landings when we shared the info with only Prime’s command three?" Elita One stated, her AI processors working on the problem without an answer.

"No. Why if it was Ironhide who raised Bumblebee, the mech for having a reputation of serious chasing and catching partners before he met Chromia, no offense," she looked towards the other femme before continuing. "And known for doing it anywhere and at any time, is Bumblebee never with any femme?"

Chromia vented hard, stopping, and resisting the motion to clasp her armored hands together. "Ironhide has had "the talk" with him and more than once. We offered to answer any questions he had. Ratchet provided a thorough medical perspective and even Prime offered to listen if he needed someone to talk to after covering the basics as any Creator mech should.”

"No wonder," Arcee vented in exasperation. "The mech who raised him, our noble leader and an intimidating wrench throwing grumpy medic? And you expect our youngest to ask them his most personal processing ideas and youthful desires? Poor mech probably doesn't even know the words to frame his questions let alone to those three!"

Chromia tilted her helm, her optics dimming as she ran scenarios super-fast. "You're probably right. Whom would you suggest? Hound, a fellow scout? If he is here long enough to ask before another field mission and I am not sure he knows any more than Bumblebee. Mirage with his high-class ideas and aloft ways? Jazz with his wildness or Prowl with his rule happy stiff protocols? And Primus forbid the twins give advice from their time as gladiators in the pits of Kaon.”

No bot had an answer. Chromia resumed walking, the others following. Firestar's processor suddenly burned with inspiration then she stopped, closing her lip plates firmly. 'It's my idea and I can see about making it work. Too much talking and not enough action has been the problem,' she reasoned.

**The Ark**

**Night Shift / Lunar Cycle**

Firestar hummed, having picked up the trait from her time around humans. She had arrived with the previous Construction crew including Hoist, Grapple, and the other builders and been on earth for months. Her fascination with copying human practices relieving the boredom of reviewing their construction plans, earth rules and environmental concerns slowing every upgrade or project offered. A check of the time showed Bumblebee would be arriving soon. 'Phase I, corner my mech in the recreation room and get him to agree to come to my quarters to discuss things tonight, without specifying what to discuss. Check. Get my quarters clean and the right mood to romance said mech, check,' she processed. Her armor gleaned fresh from the wash racks, polished and shined. 'Watching target approaching through security feeds down the hallway, perfection.' She stepped away from the outer door, standing by the doorway to her private recharge area and desk unit by the wall.

"It’s Bumblebee. May I come in?" He asked, his vocal carrying clearly thorough the partially slid open door. His normal energy signature remained dampened until the processor cases were reset but his spark spires were intact and stable. As any scout he was still cautious, both entering an unknown room and announcing his presence.

"It's open," she called, picking up a data pad and pretending to be studying its screen of medical data. She had thoroughly reviewed his medical records earlier, thanks to a borrowed program from the special ops team to ‘borrow’ the records before planning any activities that might risk him. The mini bot limped in, his left foot barely dragging within its support bracing. She bit back a comment at the silver metal chest plate and arm pieces newly repaired, glaring against his normal bright yellow paint. "Didn't even have time to paint the medical temps yet after attachment. Even one of his horn tips is missing.'

He gazed at her, aware of her reaction to his injuries but ignoring it. He had earned them in battle, and he would be fully repaired soon enough. "What did you need to see me about?"

"Truthfully?" she began, setting the data pad down. Upon her silent signal, the door slid closed and locked behind him. "I wanted company tonight and I would prefer if it was you."

"The Ark is secure. All the perimeter alarms are remotely keyed, and the blast doors are sealed. I checked the settings myself. Not even Megatron or Soundwave and his cassettes could break in here," Bumblebee stated proudly.

"I appreciate the security, but I wanted you as a mech and not frame guardian, if you are willing?" she stated then leaned against the wall. Her slender armored hands clasped each other by her midriff, showing off her distinct frame design in her chest plates and inward molded hips.

"Me?" He squeaked then recovered, rebooting his optics and vocalizer. "Mech me?"

She nodded then stood up gracefully, sauntering to the recharge bunk. She looked back over her shoulder plates, making a come here gesture when he remained stationary. His optics shuttered rapidly then he slowly hobbled forward, bright blue optics intense.

"Is this a joke? Are you taping me for Sunstreaker or Sideswipe? I'm not a prank target," he folded his arms across his Volkswagen molded front chest, looking stern.

"No joke," she murmured, sliding back onto the recharge berth. Sitting, she faced him, her legs bent at the knees, her optical colors an increasing intensity of blue and purple of passion.

"You never asked me before, why now?" he relaxed a little, moving closer and unfolding his arms.

"You were never available before," she challenged, leaning up and off her legs, sliding them out a little further and swinging her knees out.

"You really want me?" He asked.

She moved her legs wider, clicking her interface port open. He immediately looked away, his cooling fans kicking higher.

"I can explain what to do," she offered.

"I uhm, know what to do. Medical tapes," he stammered out, still not looking her direction, his only side horn nearly blocking her view of his face plates.

"Have you even touched a femme?" She regarded the bright yellow armored yellow bot.

"Of course! To grab one out of the line of fire and when I help in med bay." He faced her direction, tilting his head up high in almost comical way to focus his optics on her optics and nothing else below them. "I have very skilled hands. Small and agile enough to reach almost anywhere and sensitive enough to align the most delicate parts. If I were a full-size bot, I would be a medic like Ratchet. "

"Skilled hands huh? Change of plans," she nodded making a decision. Her interface port closed with a distinct click and she shifted her legs together before tucking them under her. She laid down full length on her side and patted the recharge berth. "Rest beside me and talk. Tell me what you know medically."

He hesitated and she softened her gaze, telling her active systems to go into standby. "I promise not to jump, grab or force you Bumblebee. You are my friend. Talk only and you can show me what you know without touching anywhere but my arm. Then if you want, you can leave and I will never mention this to any bot and we are what we have always been, friends and fellow Autobots. Agreed?"

He nodded, relieved, and embarrassed at the same time. He moved to the bunk, hopping up and laying down beside her but nearly hanging off the edge.

Firestar scooted back until she was tight against the wall. "Come here, I will not hurt you."

He scooted closer, cooling fans shifting lower into a more normal pattern. "Your arm has the standard triple armor defensive plating but here," he pressed lightly, and she winced. "Is old damage to your protoform below at the joint and vulnerable. But if I press here while applying a small magnetic pulse," he grinned when she gasped and writhed, nearly jerking her arm away.

"Wow! That feels good," she exclaimed, her optics spinning a little faster.

"Pleasure overrides the pain sensor in that area. Competing waves of energy trigger a programmed response and reset the relays. The magnetic pulse and the pressure both are required to do it," he explained.

"Where else does that combination work?"

"Your shoulder plates, your middle back and a few other places, none intimate," he answered, moving up towards her shoulder.

'And that's how it starts,' she processed triumphantly then shivered as the intense pulse radiated out from her back shoulder and through her sensitive neck cables.

**Recreation Room**

**Next Morning**

"I have been fragged by the best," Firestar vented softly, flopping onto the long couch. Her comment had every femme's instant attention. The faint dings in her armor were disappearing under nanite self-repair while any paint transfer was already scrubbed off in the wash racks.

"The best huh? Who would that be? This dream mech since we femmes are here, and they are out there?" Chromia asked, taking a sip of her energon cube.

"Not be, Bumblebee," she chortled.

"What!"

"You didn't?"

"No way!"

"Yes many wonderful exciting spark pounding ways," she laughed, pulling her feet against her chest, and folding her arms around them as she regarded the astonished bots. "Took a while for him to relax but oh wow! First two overloads I still had my interface port closed."

"Then how?" Arcee asked, narrowing her blue optics.

"Those talented exquisite skilled hands of his. They can go in places you would not believe, and he has been medically trained by Ratchet, did you know that? Training not just by Jazz as a saboteur or Wheeljack in parts design but our frames? He knows every sensor relay, every pulse point to make you feel every touch and magnetic pulse into a processor blowing overload without even nearing your port," she smiled in memory.

"So you two never?" Chromia asked, wanting to know the important part.

"Oh, we did eventually. He's a scout, use to going all night on stakeout and tracking a subject for days with minimum recharge," the femme reminded.

"But his size… I mean isn't he?" Elita One asked. For all Optimus had relayed to her on the scout, that piece of information had never been discussed.

"Mini for a mini bot? Not really. He is well developed but even him fragging me multiple times was great! I pulled out of recharge and was not sore one slagging bit! No torn filtering between my outer plates, no protoform bruising from repeated banging metal on metal, and no inside wall damage from spikes too big or thick. I swear he mapped out and targeted every sensor node I had inside and hit them all repeatedly but softly." Her face plates warmed as continued talking. "Skill, passion and pure intentions. The best fragging without any damage and then we…" she stopped, not wanting to reveal everything.

"Fell into recharge?" Arcee finished with a deep venting. "How romantic. The fighter and the mini bot. I would say I am jealous, but you frag anything that moves, or does not! And Primus help you both if Ratchet finds out. Flinging wrenches and boom!"

"Fell into recharge?" she snorted. "More like stasis lock after that intensity. I already downed two energon cubes to get here. I went temporarily offline three times during our activities. What does that tell you?" She stretched out, leaning back against the padded side of the super-sized couch. "I need an afternoon recharge to recover. "

"Not possible," Elita stated. "Chromia and I are checking the outer patrol perimeter buoys and you have control room duty. "

"I will be there in a breem," she agreed while hiding a smile as memory files replayed. 'His spark was so bright and powerful then the power hit mine. I felt that charge to my feet pads. Still feel an echo of it. Hard to be with any other bot after that. Time for more energon then back to work.’ If she had checked her own internal diagnostics they would have registered a special set of protocols running.

The day passed quickly, and by evening Firestar was returning to her room alone. "Frag and slagged. Feel like I have been battling all day. A good long recharge, that's what I need." The door pad recognized her, opening long enough for her to enter then slid closed. Bumblebee peeked around the far corner, feeling guilty. "Last night was wonderful and I enjoyed it. Ironhide was right. Femmes are fantastic and should be loved and taken care of gently. Stupid mechs are rough," he grumped. "I could never hurt a femme." He crept by her door, quietly in stealth as only a scout could. Two doors down, the outer room door slid open, allowing him inside.

"I hear you are the best," Arcee greeted him.

"Aw shucks," he blushed, feeling his face plates warm.

"I have a cog out of alignment in my shoulder, can you help?" She asked in sincerity, the damaged piece tweaking her pain relay as she sat on the edge of the recharge berth.

He quietly and expertly repaired her shoulder cog, sliding the armor plating back into place when done. A few magnetic pulses and pressure tweaks and she was practically pulling him on top of her. The night passed quickly, Arcee finally falling into deep recharge. Her pink and white form was sprawled sideways across her recharge berth, the area stained with their combined fluids.

From the chair in the next room, Bumblebee watched her. He chuckled, fingering a deep set of compression marks on his one intact horn tip. "I never knew she could scream like that in an overload. And the sparking is intense. Medical notes stated pleasurable not incredible. Wonder what else they downplayed." He rubbed one armored hand over his spark, feeling drained and a little sore on his protoform below. "Definitely more active than Firestar in her movements but paint marks rub out." He rose to his feet, careful of his bent leg and brace before hobbling back towards his own quarters.

In the control room, Elita One requested a confirmation identity check of all Cybertronian energy signatures within the Ark and relaxed when hers and Chromia were in the Command Center and the others each in their own quarters.

"Looks to be a quiet lunar cycle," she remarked, adding a note to the log entry.

"Best type to have," Chromia half answered, busy reviewing scouting entries from the field teams.

In her room, Arcee shifted, twitching only for an astro second as a special set of protocols activated for protecting the forming energy essence below her main spark. The Ark's sensors were unable to detect its faint existence as it had the one Firestar carried.

_To be continued…_


	2. Bee pile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injured Bumblebee was assigned to attend to the femmes left behind at the Ark. Recovering in his room meant Bumblebee should be alone. His damaged status left him vulnerable. Was being cuddled a bad way to go? His battle AI pinged back any way to go was bad and against operational protocols. He agreed finally, opening his optics to darkness.
> 
> Def: Bumblebees are usually a very distinctive black and yellow colour, although they can be red and black or orange and black. Another obvious (but not unique) characteristic is the soft nature of the long, branched setae, called pile, that covers their entire body, making them appear and feel fuzzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! People are reading this fic and seem to be enjoying it. This is not my main style of writing doing adult. I usually write light comedy and explanations or historical pieces. I do try. I have no beta reader and any mistakes eluded me and the spell checker. Roulette is a Generation 1 femme and sharpshooter and is canon. A quicker update to add to the fun.  
> Cybertron Times:  
> Breem - 8.3 minutes. 7 Br in 1 hour.  
> Joor - 6.5 hours. 3.69 J in 1 earth day  
> Orn - 13 days. 2.38 month 28 Orns 1 year  
> Vorn - 83 years.

**CHAPTER TWO  
WHEN COMING MEANS MORE ARE COMING**

Bumblebee snuggled, feeling the strong metal arms wrap around him comfortingly. The first to protest his experience and training made him an adult, he needed the pulse of a warm spark nearby and to let his firewalls down for love more than he would admit. Squared fingers rubbed across his helm as a femme voice murmuring too softly to hear the words soothed away the faintest echoes of a recharge nightmare. Then his entire sensor array flared to life with urgent pings. His room meant he should be alone. His damaged status left him vulnerable. Was being cuddled a bad way to go? His battle AI pinged back any way to go was bad and against operational protocols. He agreed finally, opening his optics before blinking at the darkness.

"Stay still, do not twist and hurt yourself," the femme voice said, thermal images showing her armored hand sliding across the light sensor above the bunk. The ceiling lights brightened, revealing Roulette sharing his recharge berth. Her yellow armored helm and chest plates caused a ping in his own feelings, the other’s clean smooth color contrasting against his temporary metal grey of repairs.

"Roulette. Why are you?" he sputtered, pulling back from her warm chassis.

"I wanted company and you were alone," she answered, her blue optics bright. The split half wing doors of her alt mode transform hovered over them both like a metal shield.

"I recharge alone for a reason! Do you know how dangerous it was to sneak in here?" He grabbed both her hands in his tightly. "I'm a scout! We react to protect ourselves. I could have blasted you before my processors activated," he vented hard, distressing.

She raised one hand to cup his face gently. "You are on the injured list. Ratchet disabled your weapons and transform. I knew he would disable your combat reactions including instant firing to prevent sneaking around those overrides. He did that to me two vorns ago."

"I missed that part," the young yellow armored scout grumped, fingering the broken tip of his horn. "Warned me self-repair would be slow and some programs would be offline but not which ones." He glanced down at his leg brace, hating the external metal display of being caught in Starscream’s hit and run attack.

"I'm guessing your auto updater with Teletran is also offline?" she asked, sliding up on one elbow to watch him more intently. The skills enabling her incredible marksmanship in battle noting every twitch or shifting of his frame.

"Why?"

"Nothing happened, relax," she trailed one finger across the center of his yellow helm and out the tip of his intact side horn, watching him fidget under the caress. His horns were nearly all sensors and a hot spot to his neural system. "Your outer door is locked so we won't be disturbed. Elita and Chromia changed shifts and are recharging by now. Moonracer and Flareup are on the command deck. Firestar and Arcee were recharging when I completed my work shift. The field teams report widespread signs of damage but no direct contact with the Decepticons. And you over recharged past your last check-in with medical, being me half a lunar cycle ago."

He chuckled, rolling his optics at her. "House calls? I'm touched."

"Not yet but I would like to be touched. Are you up to this?" she asked, relying on his answer. His external battle damage bothered her even as Ratchet's reports reassured her it was parts replacements and not spark threatening as it might appear.

"This being me fragging you?" he asked merrily, his lip plates forming a wide smile.

"Bee!" She gasped and giggled in embarrassment. "You make it sound so mechanical and plain."

"Hmm," he processed. "May your spark sing and your vocals scream as I delight your valve into rippling ecstasy?"

She laughed, too embarrassed to answer, ducking her head down into the recharge covers. She felt his touch on her hip plate then relaxed as his deft fingers tapped out a sore spot. "How did you know?" She looked up and over at him.

"The way you move when you walk. Ironhide's entire hip casing was shattered, and the shifter partially rebuilt, making him limp. I recognized the same hesitation, though smaller in your movements," he admitted, concentrating on moving under the edge of her armor to ease the sensor node.

“Old damage. The last case I worked as an Enforcer under Prowl in Iacon,” her blue optics darkened with emotion.

“A bad one?”

“Relatively. Literally,” Roulette deep vented. “I had two sisters. One perished in an attack when we were all younglings. I used the pain to drive me into training as an enforcer while my other sister followed a darker path. She was there at the weapons factory raid and I hesitated to fire when I identified her spark signature. And distracted me from the bot rolling up behind me. Prowl shot him as I turned too slow to avoid the hit. The blast caught my outer hip plating, ricocheting into my main energon line. Earned me time in medical and a reprimand in my file for lack of concentration. I could not explain why I lost focus. That reprimand kept me from earning my next rank. After the war broke out, no bot cared. I never saw her again. Only rumors she joined the Decepticons and disappeared when Praxus fell.”

The silence stretched between them. Then she vented, banishing a past she could not change behind firewalls and focused on the present. “We have now. And I am supposed to be taking care of you.”

“I am sorry you suffered, and I cannot relive pains of the spark but this spot," he pressed as she writhed, shifting her leg restlessly from the feeling inside its neural pathways. "Is physical alone. Pleasurable data signals can override the node signals and cause a reset until a part adjust.” His nimble fingers undid the armor catch, pulling the metal off her protoform.

"Pleasure? You did mention fragging me," she reminded.

"Is that all you want?" he asked leaning his face plates close to hers. "I can do that and spark too."

Her valve cover slid open with a click.

"I will take that as a yes," he smirked, sliding one hand down Roulette’s hip plates and to her valve opening. Gently, he traced the mesh edge with his fingers. "I do need a medical opinion on my strength and endurance," he teased.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Bumblebee opened his optics to darkness and frowned. A heavy weight lay against and partially on him, causing a moment of panic before his memory cores came online. "Roulette, I remember," he smirked, running one hand across her armor. He remote keyed the lights to their low setting, seeing her in full recharge.

"My energon alarm woke me. I need to refuel and it's afternoon human time," he realized, sliding out from under her and off the recharge berth. "Uh, clean up first," he realized, looking down at himself. Dark trans oil spotted his waist where his spike recessed as well as purple valve lubricant. Absently, he rubbed at his chest plates, feeling an ache in his spark. She stirred, waking up and looking his direction.

"That was fantastic," she purred, totally relaxed. "Hmm, no pinging pain relays, my memories are great, and you are a bad little mech. Teasing me and making me endure that many frags and spark overloads."

"You did ask for both," he leaned in, running his lip plates over hers before sub spacing out a cleaning cloth. "We need to refuel. My room supply is out." They both wiped away the obvious traces before leaving the room. Bumblebee went to the designated mech side of the wash racks and enjoyed the quiet of the room without the others hogging the armor buffers.

Roulette returned to the room she shared with the other two femmes and used their private wash racks. It had no mirror, broken the week before in an accident or she would have seen the small light essence forming under her spark when scrubbing at the yellow paint on the edge of her open chest plate.

Two hours later Elita tracked her down to ask about updating medical records and found a startling sight in the recreation room.

 _:: Chromia, did I miss anything critical lately?:_ : Elita One sent on their internal comm line.

 _::No why? Is a perimeter sensor out? Cassette sneak inside again?:_ : Chromia answered.

 _::Bumblebee is on the main couch, in full recharge with Firestar, Arcee and Roulette cuddling around him, also in recharge::_ Elita One

 _::Aww, how cute. Poor mini mech took quite a beating. Nice to see the unpaired femmes getting protective over him. Beginning to worry only we mated femmes used our protocols and the battling was decreasing us into uncaring automons. It is nice to be wanted::_ Chromia

 _::I want them to use their processors. If they are playing and goofing off at night instead of recharging that affects their battle-ready status:_ : Elita One complained.

 _::Ease up commander. Our lunar shift room check showed them alone in their own quarters remember? Bumblebee loves online games and so does Firestar. Arcee probably was listening to her music collection, practically beats out Jazz for number of songs and Roulette was reviewing med reports. Ratchet is hard enough to understand while listening to a lecture let alone his reports. She was worried about Bumblebee's injuries, mentioned it to me twice now::_ Chromia

 _::Good point. The Twins would have been endless trouble or half the other mechs if they were here come to process it. Bee is a safe choice::_ Elita One

 _::Only half of them? See you at shift:_ : Chromia teased then closed the comm line.

Two weeks later, the field teams began arriving back, hitting the wash racks then their recharge berths for much needed recharge time. Optimus Prime and his officers went to the Command Deck while Skyfire brought in Tracks and Brawn, both hurt from a cliff collapsing under their weight. The femmes greeted their friends and fellow warriors but avoided Ratchet and his medical staff, knowing his grumpy attitude about preventable accidents. And two bots hurt looking upward for Laserbeak as the ledge crumbled under them no bot could justify.

**Recreation Room**

**Early Evening**

Ratchet strode into the recreation room, focusing on a quick energon refuel. The red and white armored mech steered around the other mechs who ignored his soft grumbling. “Thick chipped slaggers filling my med bay. I turned medical to save sparks, not to rescue dumb afts.” Thick blue energon gushed into his cube out of the dispenser, his systems reading it down to the micro level. The sensors remained active, easier to continue in the background processing than activate for each patient. “Prime breaks an antenna tip on a bridge support, should know his height by now. Brawn’s neural welds are cooling, and Chromia cracks a shoulder weld while enthusiastically welcoming back Ironhide. Primus, how about something new and unexpected? Is that too much to ask of the galaxy?”

Firestar walked by, nodding at him before reaching for an energon cube. Her deeper red armor contrasted against his paler color as she leaned in to trigger the dispenser controls. “It better not be out like yesterday. What happened to keeping it filled being part of brig duties for good conduct?”

Ratchet sharply vented, the air sound reminiscent of a human snort. Another bad vocal habit he had picked up from his time with Carly and Spike. “The twins added colorant to affect any bot fueling with it, turning their main lines rainbow colors. Prowl classified the containers high security once his system returned to normal and he left his office to be seen by the rest of us.”

“Is that good or bad the Twins joined our side?” Firestar teased. As she turned to face him directly, his systems locked onto her energy signature. No, correction. Two energy signatures, one faint and precious.

"I need to talk to you in private right now," he cupped her elbow joint in his hand then frowned when she stepped back.

"I was only joking. Lighten up Ratchet," the femme grumbled, instinctively folding her arms across her chest protectively while moving a few steps back.

"I am Chief Medical Officer and I have the rank to order you where I choose.”

“No please? You are slipping.”

“I am ordering you to accompany me to med bay for your own good,” he hissed, not wanting to make a scene.

"I'm fine. In fact," her lip plates formed a wide grin as her optics blazed. "I have never felt better. "

He vented softly, feeling the optics of the others in the room watching. He was not about to risk an injury trying to force her. "That means you are keeping up on the increased energon need. You are carrying a sparkling essence and therefore require more constant fueling," he stated calmly.

Gasps met his announcement from the mechs as she giggled. "Sparkling? Hah! That would require that I…uhm…" she trailed off, counting rapidly and pulling internal medical reports. "Oh pit."

"You are?" Jazz's visor blazed bright blue as he moved closer. As their best spy, he would never admit to monitoring a private conversation but they had not been soft toned either. "You really are, I mean she is?" he asked Ratchet who nodded. He froze then up linked to the Autobot command frequency as Third In Command.

 _::Hey all! Ratchet just announced Firestar is carrying a sparkling essence! There gonna be a baby bot here!:_ : Jazz

In the meeting upstairs, Optimus felt his jaw gears go slack behind his battle mask as Prowl twitched his monochromatic door wings, his logic glitch nearly offlining him. Ironhide raised an armored fist triumphantly while the other Autobots began chattering in their native language.

 _::Optimus to Ratchet. Can you confirm Firestar is carrying?_ :: Prime

 _::How slagging fast does news travel on this ship? Never mind. Yes, she is carrying a sparkling essence::_ Ratchet

 _::How long?:_ : Prime

 _::I will know shortly; we are in route to med bay now. From data scans, newly formed in the last orn_ :: Ratchet

 _::How is that possible? There were no mechs around then:_ : Prime

 _::Bumblebee was::_ Ratchet reminded then felt the comm line close with a snap. He had almost reached med bay with Firestar when Ironhide's frantic comm call boomed across his systems.

 _::MEDICAL EMERGENCY! REPEAT MEDICAL EMERGENCY ON THE COMMAND DECK::_ Ironhide

 _::What happened?::_ Ratchet pointed at Firestar for his assistant First Aid to attend to her then broke into a full tilt run for the nearest elevator.

 _::Prime is in stasis shock. Keeled over without a word:_ : Ironhide

 _::That all? Lug head! You had me worried. Slap him and bring him around. I am in the elevator now. Be there shortly:_ : Ratchet sent, waiting for the doors to open. They slid open and he shot out, running down the hall and around the corner. Arcee flattened against the wall as he passed then yelped as he tried sliding to a stop. Tried as he was going too fast, turning his upper body to get a double scan of her energy signatures. Force times mass times twist and impact! He fell hard, sliding as systems reset intent on confirming data and not easing his crash landing. A blurry Arcee moved into his line of vision.

"Are you functional? That looked like that hurt," she asked, bending down to help him up. His medically multi layered scanning optics focused on her chest plates and the unique energy signature, no the two signatures behind them.

"Two signatures? You are carrying a sparkling," he said quietly.

"How hard did you hit? My medical updates would have included," she paused speaking, pulling internal medical records.

 _::Where are you? Prime is coming around but dazed::_ Ironhide

 _::With Arcee in the outer hallway. She is carrying a sparkling too. And I am on the floor. Need a breem::_ Ratchet sent

 _::Two femmes? At the same time? How the matrix flaring did that occur?: And why are you on the floor?_ : Ironhide

 _::I process I might know but for now get Prime back in his chair and hold him there. His balance compensators are slow to reset. Mine too. Explanations later::_ Ratchet

_To be continued..._


	3. The Buzz surrounding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots have returned to the Ark and discovered what happened. The Transformers are an alien mechanical race facing extinction after thousands of years of war and now their youngest has created multiple sparklings. While similar to humans, their ways are not our ways. What do the femmes want? Why did their protections not work? Who is over joyed, who is jealous and who wants to be the next parental mech?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: A quicker, shorter update. More surprises to come and next chapters are in progress. Please leave kudos and comments and let me know what you think.
> 
> A vorn is 83 years earth time.

CHAPTER THREE

The Ark's recreation room barely held the compliment of mechs and femmes assembled there. Elita and Chromia represented their side while watching the animated discussion. Laughs, grumbles and comments flowed around them.

"We can guard ourselves' Firestar stated when we left. Never thought they would need guarding from Bumblebee," Trailbreaker noted, his conversation louder than the others at that moment. The mech’s deeper base vocal carrying clearly.

"Who guards the guardian?" Huffer grumped. “I slogged through mud and organic material for days on the away team. It’s not fair.”

Optimus raised a hand to pinch his nose plates above his battle mask. His balance compensator kept his twenty-eight foot plus frame steady after several resets and medical coding ensured they stayed that way. His growing processor helm ache was another matter. Prime meant leading battles and guiding his troops into peace, not publicly dealing with matters of the spark. Yet here he was. Time to be Prime.

Ratchet glanced up at Optimus, grumbling to himself as he waited for the ancient mech to take command. He had work to do back at med bay, both femmes under his assistant’s care and locked securely away until the matter was official handled. Ratchet opened his lip plates to bring the meeting to order when overridden.

"This is your fault!" Jazz snapped, pointing a stubby silver finger at Ironhide. His blue visor blazed with the intensity of his emotions. "You corrupted our sweet little mech! Turned him into some kind of lust bot!"

"Me? Ah didn't tell him to go frag em both!" Ironhide countered. The red armored warrior growled even as he felt guilty. His youthful escapades were wilder, but no femme had ever sparked and only Chromia had remained online as the war progressed. Time hid his past, but he had told Bumblebee about it, as a story shared between mechs and not a path to follow.

"We didn’t. I may have created the Dinobots but that was with command approval!" Wheeljack's sidebars flashed angry red and black colors. The inventor twitched his fingers, anxious to continue designing sparkling shells and transfer chambers.

"Peace!" Prime commanded, pointing at them both. "Regardless of who or how he learned, we need to deal with this situation. This meeting is to find answers, not make accusations. You were saying Ratchet?"

"I never installed the sequencing protocols to prevent him from fully merging his spark with an active female because I deemed him too young," he admitted into the silence.

"And now?" Mirage asked. The aristocratic spy merely raised an optic arch as he stood among the other scouts and spies.

"The aft view is always perfect," Ratchet snapped.

"He probably saw a lot of aft," Hound joked, hearing laughter and chuckling. The green scout dropped his optics as Prime glared at him. Silently Hound approved of continuing their race, however the unorthodox the means had been.

"What about the femmes? They have locking protocols to prevent sparking on their side as well. Never sparked with any of us," Sideswipe complained. The idea the mini bot had a better reputation than any other mech with the femmes was irksome.

"They do but it is at their discretion. I will not take away their freedoms based on heir frame type any more than I would demand locking covers on interface rods. The approved program locks can conflict with their sensor arrays. Most leave the protocols active if they know they are going to be sparking. Neither considered Bumblebee as a potential parental mech and did not have them engaged. They were prepared for an attack with battle systems ready," the medic explained.

"Every merge doesn't equal a sparkling," Ironhide reminded, staring at Chromia. They had tried a few times to create a sparkling and failed each time.

"No, they do not. I am still unsure why, but both times Bumblebee sparked and interfaced with a femme, they conceived. A bright powerful little spark that has the power potential greater than a mini bot. His youth is a factor as is his condition. Half of his systems were offline with repairs or battle damage, allowing all his energon and spark power to be rerouted. His… unique background," Ratchet's optics flickered for a moment. "Could be a factor."

"You mean not knowing where he came from? Being found an orphan sparkling?" Sunstreaker puzzled out, making a note to research power shunting relays into merging.

"Making our little mech want to create his own family? Never processed that. Now that is sad," Jazz realized. Ratchet kept silent, as did Optimus and Ironhide though they all exchanged an optic glance.

"And what does Bumblebee have to say about all this?" Elita One asked. The pink armored femme commander finally spoke. Internally she was delighted as a femme to have sparklings on the way even as a war commander she feared the Decepticons finding out. They had been spark sitting mechs for years, how much harder could a new spark be?

"We notified him once we were certain he was involved," Prowl stated. His black and white wing doors were still straight up in shock. The Autobot Second In Command could deal with most situations using his training and logic. Carrying femmes were not part of that training. Then again, his obsession with duty and his work left little time for femmes or interaction with them.

"We will find out together," Optimus said, raising his left arm. The wrist communications hatch popped up, the display showing Bumblebee sitting in the waiting area of med bay. "Please attend the meeting in the recreation room." Then the signal line closed, and the arm hatch resealed.

Minutes later, the main doors opened and the small yellow mech hobbled in. Bumblebee stood straight but kept his head and optics down. His missing helm horn, unpainted metal arm and chest plates were reminders of his recovering injuries. The sound of his leg brace clicking with every step focused their optics on his damaged leg. The twins snickered at the compression marks on his intact horn as he passed by them to stand before Optimus as Prime.

"You understand the seriousness of the situation?" Prime began. A silent nod. The ancient Prime crossed his red armored arms across his simulated glass chest armor, glad his facemask hid his amused expression. 'I remember Alpha Trion calling me to a lecture when he discovered Elita and I spark merged. I too nodded and kept quiet. Must be a young mech tradition.'

"And?" Ironhide prompted, moving closer to the youngling he had cared for.

"Scouts are supposed to lead the way?" Bumblebee quipped, optics wide and innocent from his youngling days.

Prime vented hard, tapping metal fingers rapidly on his upper arm plate. He stalled to allow the snickers and groans to quiet down. "Did you now the sparklings would happen?" he finally asked.

"No, not really. I mean I knew in theory like going too fast on a road and you miss the curve," Bumblebee began.

"Miss?" Sunstreaker exclaimed, waving his yellow arms all direction.

"You hit every femme you fragged!" his red twin sideswipe finished.

"I did not know they would carry my sparklings. I will take full responsibility for my actions and to be responsible," he answered truthfully, his military training showing in his proper stance and calm faceplate expression.

"Meaning?" Ratchet asked, his optics narrowing.

"I will provide and assist the femmes in any way I can and be the parental mech to the sparklings in every way I can. They will have my love and I will be there for them," he stated.

"If that means never leaving this ship again for a ten vorns until they are old enough to endure alone? Never scouting or being with your human friends again?" Prime asked, his regal baritone serious.

Bumblebee's optics dimmed as he processed then looked up, firming the edges of his lip plates. "Yes sir. I have never run from problems and I understand the requirement of sacrifices. It is not their fault this happened."

"Hah!" Ironhide commented. "One spark plus one spark makes three."

"Be that as it may, we will all assist. This moment is a blessing for our race. As of now," Optimus winked an optic at Bumblebee where the other mechs could not see him do it. "I have had fourteen mech requests for adoption into their clans and family ranks. Two requests for permission to pursue and attempt a full bonding merge with said carrying femme once she has delivered."

"Seriously?" Bumblebee shuttered his optics rapidly. His amazed face looked from one mech to the other.

"Why not?" Tracks asked, his vocals carrying a hint of surprise. "You showed us the femmes want to be femmes as long as we give them loving and not use them for our needs." The blue mech nodded as sounds of agreement came from the others.

"And who don't want a sparkling? Life got to keep going, war or not," Jazz commented. The black and white armored spy missed taking care of a sparkling. His overtures to the carrying femmes had received a definite no but he never missed getting what he wanted. And there were femmes still to ask.

"The other femmes remained on Cybertron, but it is a matter of time before they are discovered," Elita joined the conversation again. "Now, on earth we can have sparklings and pursue more than energon scraping runs or fighting? Pit yes the femmes are interested," she said. Her lip plate twitched with the unspoken information several femmes had requested permission to pursue Bumblebee. They wanted a sparkling and he was a guaranteed way to get one without the mech attachments usually required. Her firm 'no' had fallen into deaf audios.

Ratchet's comm beeped and he glanced at it, frowning as the information displayed. "Bumblebee," his tone carried a hint of anger. "Did you spark merge with Roulette too? Never mind, my reports indicate she is a third carrying femme."

"Three strikes, you're out!" Jazz quipped. Laughter and happy sounds filled the room even as Optimus and Ironhide watched the young scout. His face plates heated, his movements slow as thought working out a decision.

"Out with it youngling," Ironhide grunted.

"Ratchet, have you checked Flareup?" he asked, rubbing the back of his yellow helm with his hand.

The medic sagged. "Four?"

"Glad you were wounded, or we'd have our own army of sparklings," Sunstreaker teased.

_To be continued..._


	4. Adding to the Bee hive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumblebee encounters a side effect from all his wild spark merging and discovers a secret of Prime's kept from before the war. Ironhide and Chromia get a unexpected blessing and Ratchet another problem to fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: A update to enjoy on the weekend. Yes, there is a plot more than multiple merges between mechs and femmes. This is not a “heat” fic. No bot is forced into anything or tricked in any way. All consensual and mutually enjoyed. Thank you for leaving comments, kudos, and suggestions. 
> 
> Cybertron time – Breem is 8.3 minutes, Joor is 6.5 hours, Orn is 13 days and Vorn is 84 years.

**Chapter 4 : Unexpected side effects**

Inside the Ark, the two mini bots continued their conversation as they walked down the main corridor. The smooth orange tinted metal walls echoed only the clanking brace sounds, their stealth features auto engaged as scouts. Their voices barely carried up to the heightened ceiling designed to accommodate the tallest of them outside of a Guardian class like Omega Supreme. Their matching build, heights and armor plating differed only in armor colors as they moved.

"Sunstreaker nearly blew a processor! Especially when the femme said, 'My mistake. I wanted the other yellow bot to be my mech," Cliffjumper chuckled. The red mech had been tossed by the larger warrior one too many times to not enjoy Sunstreaker’s public humiliation.

Bumblebee chuckled, hobbling along with his leg brace clanking on every other step. “That would frag him off. Serves him right. Bragging how in the gladiator pits he had femmes as a victory prize instead of seeing them as individuals.”

“Only now you are the prize they seek. Hiding out in med bay or your quarters huh?” the other chided.

“Not hiding but ordered rest and I would love to get my repairs done.” Bumblebee vented softly, the frustration plain in his expression. The past two weeks had him on the repair list but unable to fit the time in with every other bot preparing for the upcoming deliveries. "The arriving femmes are targeting me worse than a Decepticon," he half grumped, remembering the heated messages his official message comm line had been receiving. "The next three earth days I am going to practically live in med bay for delivery and bonding time with the sparklings. Once they online and are stable I can resume repairs and normal patrols."

"Is it really necessary? I never attended a sparking transfer. I was the last build class before our medical wing shut down and transferred to Iacon" Cliffjumper asked, his blue optics narrowing as he processed the idea out.

"Not with Ratchet, Hoist, first Aid and Wheeljack attending. I made a commitment to be responsible even if that means watching them shelled and handed over to another mech," he answered. "I am glad I am not in the brig or exiled. The teasing I can handle, and the femmes will tire of me eventually. I need the rest; systems are taking forever to reset and half of them are still medically locked down. It is annoying." The young scout stumbled, pressing one yellow armored servo to his chest plates as his spark pulsed. His optics dimmed out before resetting to half power.

"You functional?" Cliffjumper braced him by his shoulder plates, peering at him. “That is more than a bent leg strut side effect.”

"Odd spark pulse. Been having them for two solar cycles. A good defrag should fix it."

"Med bay now. No arguments, especially if your systems have lockdowns," he stated, turning, and pointing back down the hallway.

"Cliffjumper, I do not need..."

"Hah! Sparking with every femme, who knows what you caught," he warned.

"They caught me," he quipped, joining in his friend's laughter.

"Still, us mini bots need to stick together. And I owe you. Saved me from the 'Cons many a time."

Five minutes later the med bay double doors slid open, revealing Ratchet welding on a tiny frame set on the nearest countertop. "Who dares disturb me when I am oh? And?" He regarded both mini mechs warily, no obvious signs of trauma on either.

"His spark is acting up. Nearly dropped him in the hallway," Cliffjumper pointed agitatedly at the yellow scout.

"No, it did not. It flared and hey!" He yelped as Cliffjumper planted both hands on his back plates and shoved. Hard. Bumblebee stumbled forward off balance as the brace slid on the smooth floor, blindly grabbing onto the medical berth for balance. His friend advanced, causing him to reflexively hop up onto the berth to escape another shove.

Ratchet dropped the micro welder to the counter top, grabbing an advanced scanner instead. 'For Cliffjumper to be worried and Bee to admit a problem it's serious,' he processed rapidly. Full medical protocols activated, switching him from friend to Chief Medical Officer, tasked with keeping them online and functional.

A minute later his advanced blue optics read the scanner report in disbelief. "Cliffjumper, please find Wheeljack. He is not answering his comm signal. Tell him I need him here and out of his lab. I have something he needs to assist with. Bumblebee," he focused his optics on him intently while keeping his white faceplates without an expression. "Stay here and relax. You have an odd part that needs moving around your spark spires. Nothing serious but will take half a joor to adjust."

The med bay doors slid open, the red mini bot leaving as Elita strode through. Her pink and white armored form moved with purpose. The doors locked silently behind her. "You called and said it was urgent?"

"We have a situation," Ratchet pointed at Bumblebee sitting on the medical berth. "He is carrying a sparkling essence."

"No way in the pit!" Bumblebee exclaimed, his lone horn providing a stabbing counterpoint as his helm swung side to side in denial. "I am a mech! Ask any femme I have sparked with!"

"Ratchet! How could he?" Elita sputtered, waving her pink armored hands around.

"Calm down both of you," Ratchet commanded. "With the amount of energy you and those femmes were exchanging a rogue essence formed and attached to the wrong spark. It happens."

"How often?" she narrowed her optics, obviously searching the medical databases.

"Rare but I need your help. His system cannot maintain it. Shortly his safety protocols will change it from unknown to a threat and destroy it. Our only hope of saving it is an immediate transfer."

"To me? Are you crazy?" Elita vented, backing away from them both.

"To an unbonded femme! You," he pointed at her. "Need to find one that is not spark carrying and willing to be a parental femme and fast. As Femme Commander you can find out. I am not asking them to become a spark carrier, it would be a misuse of my medical authority."

"What about the true femme?" Bumblebee asked, one hand pressed over his spark armor. He felt giddy he carried a new life, however temporarily.

"No way of telling. Right now it is drawing on your spark, altering its energy signature. Once it attaches to the new femme it will adapt again. Only at this early stage is it transferable without shattering it apart. Best guess would be that, a guess. If we do not transfer it quickly, it will not matter. We will lose it and the resultant charge could cause back flares in your spark," Ratchet checked the scanner readings again.

"Let me cross check with Chromia. I have been organizing battle reports all solar cycle while she reviewed the personnel files of the new arrivals. And we have two more shuttles inbound from Cybertron once Shockwave is engaged by the Wreckers there," Elita stated, her optics dimming as she conferred over internal comm. "Chromia has the solution, stay put she says." The femme commander shrugged then leaned back against the counter.

"You warned her to be discreet I hope?" the Chief Medical Officer asked.

"First thing. She is not the type to spread rumors," she corrected. Her expression became thoughtful as she regarded the young bot sitting before her. 'I want a sparkling and Chromia wants one. Our mates have tried and failed. One more piece to the breeding puzzle for Ratchet to solve. Then we can have ours. And I have enjoyed trying for a fulfilled merge with Optimus,' she processed.

“You,” Ratchet pointed at Bumblebee. “Are up to a five count. Any more sparklings coming?”

“Not that I know of. This one was a surprise too.”

Minutes later, the med bay doors unlocked and opened, allowing Ironhide and Chromia to enter. "We are going to take it," Ironhide said.

"You are spark mated," Ratchet narrowed his optics, directing his comment only to Chromia.

"And unable to spark our own essence so far," she countered. "We want one and consider Bee part of our family." The blue armored femme 's stance was defiant as her mate.

"I raised 'im. Slagging good job too," Ironhide stated firmly, crossing his red armored arms.

Ratchet glanced over at Elita then Bumblebee before nodding. "Chromia, sit there and offline all your battle protocols and weapons. I need to give you an injection of modified coding to stimulate your protections and carrying protocols or you might reject the essence." He watched her obey as her mate moved closer, wrapping one arm around her waist plates.

"Altering her femme coding?" Ironhide's grip tightened on her. "Any side effects?"

"She will be loopy. " He readied the transfer injector, then noticed their blank looks. "Sorry human term. A little...distracted in her attention span. Moreover, intensely romantic but no sparking! Not until the essence is shelled. Interface all you want but no spark merging. I need to inject down into your protoform main core port. Brace yourself." She vented hard but stayed quiet as the extra-long needle punched through a gap in the battle armor into her delicate frame below. The hypo injector beeped, and her optics dimmed as systems reacted to the coding. "Medically accepted," he smiled as her optics narrowed to their tightest focus. "What normally takes a joor will load almost immediately."

"Easy 'Mia," Ironhide supported her as she sagged, laying her gently back on the medical berth. Her optics slid closed as her system hum increased. Ratchet passed the scanner over her frame, nodding at the readings. "Almost there then we can transfer."

"Why did you need Wheeljack?" Bumblebee asked.

"To verify your coding and processors. He helped design your current shell and system upgrades at Tyger Pax. While rare, there are precedents for spark back flares or corrupted coding. I will monitor Chromia and the essence while he verifies. I need to place you into temporary stasis to slow your spark; you can review the transfer on tape later. "

The young mech considered it, knowing how dangerous a back flare could be. "I am ready." His cry of pain as the deep needle punched into his protoform was ignored by the others. Bumblebee grimaced as the hypo injector flooded coding into his systems. His optics dimmed, shuttering close as Ratchet eased him flat on his back plates.

Ironhide could never repeat exactly what happened even as he watched it. His optics saw only the sparkling essence in the transfer tongs passing before him and down into Chromia's open chest cavity. "It's tiny."

"It is barely formed, and half the Creator mix was a mini bot," he reminded, his medically trained hands steady to lower it to her spark. The faintest sizzle sound and it attached, her own spark light wrapping around it as a protective shield before settling. "Perfect attachment. She will stay in deep recharge for half a joor. When she on lines take her back to your quarters but be careful."

"Ain’t going to hurt her," he grumbled.

"She might you! Hyper protocols beyond normal."

"Throw me on the berth and want to interface?" he formed a grin on his lip plates while caressing her face plates lovingly.

"Throw you on the floor and pound you into pieces," he warned. The smirk on the weapons specialists' face plates brought a groan from him. "Repairs and repaints coming I know it."

Two earth hours later Bumblebee pulled out of recharge to a darkened room. Feeling the softness under him, he recognized a recharge berth. Stretching out both arms, the sides evaded his reach. Way wider than his and he was alone. Sensors detected no furnishings or decorations on the walls. 'Guest quarters? Or the brig? Never been there.' The room’s door opened slowly, allowing light into the room to reveal Ratchet standing there.

"Where am I?"

"My personal quarters. You are confined here for the duration," he said, reading the medical scanner he held.

"Am I in trouble?"

The chief medic vented, a short raspy sound. "If you call sparking more essences in a week than most mechs in a lifetime as trouble, then yes. Truth is you are in hiding while recovering. No bot would process to look here, and I rarely use these quarters. Moonracer has her own rooms for when we…ahem. As Chief Medical Officer, should the worse happen this doubles as a spare triage holding area. Equipped and fully secure. The distance across the Ark and floors make it an ideal secondary staging area. And furthest away from Wheeljack’s lab and the twin quarters is another benefit."

"I need medical care that advanced?" Bumblebee vented faster, his optics widening a little.

"No. Wheeljack confirmed your coding was intact. We are keeping you from the femmes that just arrived. Any activity would strain your systems. Your transform processor is fragmented, and a scout’s first reaction is to return to base or flee and carry a message back. Your orders are to recharge and not leave this room until I clear you medically. Prime or one of the others will check on you later. If you will excuse me, I have more shells to make. Five correct?"

“Yes sir.”

“Five it is and two spares. Now rest.” And the door closed.

Bumblebee woke to noise and the presence of a massive shape nearby.

"Easy," Optimus regal baritone encouraged before the lights slowly raised. "Brought you energon per Ratchet's orders." He watched with amusement as the normal reserved scout grabbed the cubes, gulping them down without regard to manners.

"I never meant for this to happen. The femmes carrying or me being a worse problem," Bumblebee admitted, wiping at the blue spots of energon down his front armor he had spilled in his haste.

'Still a sparkling himself,' Optimus processed amusedly. He sat down, wrapping one arm gently around the mini bot. "Not a problem but a blessing from Primus himself. As Prime I have learned the hard way that we cannot command the future but accept what it sent our way. The worst was we could have lost you." The little yellow scout relaxed, as he had done as a youngling in need of comfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think about anything but the pleasure," he admitted, his vocal tone soft.

The bigger mech chuckled, his rumbling nearly shaking the bot leaning against his side. "Mechs since Cybertron's creation have had that problem. Apology accepted. And count yourself lucky. Ratchet discovered the essence for transfer before it was lost or a back surge occurred."

"I never knew it was there," he said.

"Neither did I when it happened to me," Optimus vented as his face plates warmed.

"When it what?" He stared up at the large red and blue armored mech.

"I am being serious," he chuckled pulling his arm away and sitting up straight. His cooling fans whirred more noticeably. "In my academy days before I met Ariel. I overcharged on high grade following exam week. We tried a group merge or so I was informed later. Four femmes and myself. My spark was powerful even then and apparently drew a rogue essence to it. Only I did not know it."

"Then how?"

"I reported to medical for an after sludge cleaning of my pipes the next lunar cycle. The attending Medic on duty recognized the rare medical coding. He had a gift for tracking and recognizing oddities in our race. It was fate that he attended to me, not knowing who I was as Alpha Trion’s heir or brother to Megatronus, the newly appointed Lord Protector," he traced glyph patterns across the recharge berth material. "He kept it totally discreet, not even making a medical record."

"They transferred it," more a statement than a question.

"Yes. She had been trying for a sparkling with her mate, but his coding never engaged fully. He had taken heavy spark damage in an accident. They could merge but only partially. The medics were unable to help them and all visits to the Allspark cube ended in it glowing and accepting them, but no essence received."

"And they kept it as their own?"

"Yes and the secret of its origins, or my half at least," Optimus chuckled. "The essence turned out to be a handful of a mech the few times I saw him. The medic never spoke of it and once I met Ariel I kept the secret from her. I had processed confiding to her what happened but feared driving her away. I loved her from our first conversation," he became solemn.

"There is more to it?"

"Once I became Prime the knowledge would have been scandalous and the sparkling endangered. They targeted Elita because of me and to endanger him too? No. Assassins offlined my Second in Command named Impactor, allowing Prowl to accept the position. Other Primes were being extinguished until I alone remained. The war continued, claiming whole cities. He was a youngling in his second shell and beloved by his parental units when they escaped the Sea of Rust. In time if fate wills it he could become the next Prime as could any of my descendants. But I wanted to give him what I never had.”

“Which is?’ Bumblebee asked, his optics going wide at the plural use of the word ‘descendants.’

“A choice. Fate rarely calls upon us at the moment of our choosing. I was made into a Prime and served with all my spark. It is a heavy burden to bear I would not willingly throw upon another and Elita has paid a price to stay by my side.” He rose to his feet pads, gathering up the empty energon cubes.

"What was the sparkling's designation?"

"Hot Rod."

_To be continued..._


End file.
